Lost and Found
by Anya2
Summary: When a young british lady and her friend steal a powerful stone from a bunch of demons, the demons decide they want it back. It's up to Angel and crew to rescue them. But were the demons really the danger Doyle sensed in his vision?


Lost And Found ****

Okay, just a little back story....

This is the first part in a new Angel universe that myself and my friend Jamie are creating. This happens after Lonely Hearts, from which place our universe deviates. Anna and Jamie are therefore totally my characters. If you want to read more about them, or more stories in this growing series, please visit my comprehensive site at

[**http://members.tripod.co.uk/doylefan22**][1]

Hope you enjoy

On a personal note: Thanks to Jamie, my partner in crime without whose constant enthusiam and flood of ideas I would have given up this whole thing a long time ago!

****

Lost And Found

PART ONE 

Whilst having knowledge of the things that went 'bump in the night' was definitely an advantage when it came to staying alive, it was never exactly a comforting thought. Anna Madison had known about the vampires, demons and general forces of darkness since she could remember. And while none of it had ever actually given her nightmares, she had never been able to walk home alone in the dark without being a little nervous and very cautious.

Her platform heels clicked along the concrete sidewalk as she strode quickly through a part of the town that lay somewhere in-between low rent and high rent. Her apartment was just a block away now. It wasn't large but was adequate for her needs; bedroom, lounge, kitchen, bathroom. She kept it neat and cosy. Her neighbours, a single mother with a ten-year-old kid and young guy that worked in the diner down the street, were quiet and friendly, just how she liked it. The fact that they were both half-demons didn't bother her in the slightest.

What did bother her were kids who were meant to be her friends suddenly appearing out of the shadows without warning and scaring the living daylights out of her.

The unexpected presence laughed when he saw her reaction.

She looked at the kid furiously; more angry because he'd managed to make her shriek than his actual scaring of her.

"Jesus-bloody-Christ!" she said, in her well-toned English accent, taking deep breaths, "What the hell do you think you're doing, Jamie?"

The kid smiled, "Just checking the old heart, Anna. Seeing if it's still beating."

She shook her head in disgust, "You can be such an idiot sometimes, you know that?" She carried on walking briskly, leaving Jamie half jogging to catch up.

"Aren't you gonna ask me what I want?" he asked, the cocky little half-smile, that seemed to be a permanent feature, plastered on his face.

"Would it make a difference if I didn't?" she enquired, dryly.

He grinned, "Since I'm gonna tell you anyway - no. The Liberty Room's back open. You wanna go down there with me?"

Anna eyed the kid, with an amused smile. As if he was old enough to get in.

Even so, she should really stop thinking of him as 'the kid'. He was seventeen years old. He had his own place. He held down a full time job, delivering telephone orders from the bar she worked at. A few months ago, the demon who ran it had decided that there could be a market in 'take-away' alcohol. Many demons hated going out in public, especially if they couldn't pass as human. Many of these demons also liked to partake in a drink or two. What could be better than a delivery service? Anna mentioned that she knew this kid with a 250cc motorbike who'd welcome the work, and Jamie had been given the job. Part of her wished he hadn't, wished that she'd made him go back to school and get some real qualifications. He went from school-boy to adult far too quickly and it was partly her fault. But, in the end, the decision wasn't hers - it was his future, let him deal the cards.

And anyway, she'd gone down the same route herself and it had never done her any harm. Even though she was working in a bar now, instead of doing something useful with her sharp mind. Going to interviews saying 'Well, I'm actually quite bright', didn't really cut it when the 'qualifications' section of the form was horribly blank.

It wasn't that she didn't enjoy the bar. Working there she had made some good friends and a comfortable life for herself. The problem was, it just wasn't a challenge. If Anna wasn't doing something dangerous or seemingly impossible, she just didn't feel alive. Which was probably the character trait that had lead her down the darker alleys of the demon world. Never a dull moment there.

Maybe it was this shadowy existence that had her so nervous and jumpy right now. Herself and Jamie - who'd become somewhat of an assistant to her below-the-level activities - were definitely on to something fascinating. Something to do with an artefact called the Any Stone. Now, she didn't know what this was but people certainly were worked up about it. Somebody out there wanted it desperately enough to pay very handsomely, and those looking for it had already started killing each other in order to get to it first. She hoped to sneak in while they were too busy squabbling and steal the stone for herself, without having any intention of handing over to potential buyers. If it was worth that much it would be worth looking into more carefully.

Speaking of which....

"Jamie," she said, linking arms with the boy, "You don't need The Liberty Room."

"Well, if I wanna drink a lot it'd probably help."

"You don't need drink," she said, smiling, "I think I found somewhere for us to break into."

An interested gleam came into his eyes. "The Stone?"

She nodded, "I know where it is."

****

PART TWO

Angel closed his eyes, willing for the ability to shut out sound as easily as he could vision. If he had to listen to Cordelia and Doyle bickering much longer he may have to stake himself. Or them.

They'd been at it since they'd arrived that morning and Cordelia had mentioned in her own unique way how unwell Doyle looked. And considering that, when Angel had dropped him unceremoniously into his apartment last night, Doyle had already consumed a bottle of whiskey by himself, it wasn't surprising he'd be a little raw the next day.

The half-demon had invited his boss out for 'a quiet drink'. Angel, knowing how much Doyle craved a social life, and how much he sacrificed to help him, felt that he was not in a position to refuse. He told Doyle he would meet him down there later. A few random stakings had delayed him slightly and unfortunately it gave Doyle more than enough time to give in to boredom and order and bottle. Angel arrived in time to carry him home.

Doyle, looking decidedly peaky - and undoubtedly feeling much worse - had staggered into the office and slumped onto the sofa, moaning and groaning. Cordelia had shown him no sympathy, and Doyle, in no mood to tolerate her sharp tongue, had snapped back. That had left her almightly affronted and the resulting snide comments whizzing between them reminded him disturbingly of her verbal battles with Xander. Except that he hadn't had to put up with them in own house.

Realising that for the first time silence had thankfully descended over the office, Angel rose from his chair, his hand actually gripping the door handle before the bickering started again. He sighed, returning to the desk and sinking back into his seat. Sometimes, eternity could seem to be going much slower.

Lazily, he picked up Doyle's deck of playing cards which sat on the sat the desk. He began to shuffle them with swift, assured movements honed from a century of practice in taverns and bars. The task was utterly pointless, but at least it was a distraction from the noise next door. Although he found it couldn't tear his attention away from the sudden sharp clattering sound.

His glance shot up, wondering if they'd actually begun throwing things at each other, just in time to see a Doyle shaped silhouette falling into frosted glass window that shielded his private office from the main area. Angel quickly jumped up, tossing the cards aside as he headed for the door. Okay, so they were having an argument. He couldn't believe that Cordelia would actually hit him though! Bursting through the door, his eyes scanned around hurriedly, looking for any damage. The only casualty appeared to be Doyle who was lying in a heap on the floor, writhing in pain while Cordelia hovered over him.

"Oh, Jesus, Cordelia!" Angel scolded, going to join them, "I can't believe you sometimes!"

"What?" she asked, cross and confused.

He glared at her unforgivingly and Cordelia quickly cottoned on to his thinking.

"I didn't do this!" she defended, pointing at Doyle.

Angel frowned in sudden realisation, "A vision?"

"Well, duh! What did you think - I hit him?" she asked, affronted by the clear accusation.

"No…Of course not…It's just…" he mumbled, embarrassed by his mistake, "Well, I was in my office and I heard you arguing. Then Doyle slammed into the window and I-"

"Automatically assumed I'd hit him," Cordelia finished.

"Well, yeah."

"Oh, thanks a lot, man," Doyle groaned, sitting up as the vision passed, "I appreciate the vote of confidence."

Angel and Cordelia reached under his arms, pulling his wobbly form back to its feet.

"I mean, do you really think Cordy could floor me?" Doyle asked in disgust.

"Hey!" Cordelia said, feeling she was being insulted. She let go of his arm, crossing huffily to her desk. Doyle, not quite stable on his feet, with his head still spinning in the aftermath of the vision, teetered on the verge of falling down again. He gripped desperately onto Angel's shirt, the vampire helping to steady him. Doyle thanked him with a nod as he moved to a chair.

"What did you see?" Angel asked, going to the table and pouring a cup of coffee from the pot. He handed it to Doyle who took one sip and pushed it aside.

"There was a girl," he said through the coffee related grimace, "Pretty."

"You noticed that through the excruciating pain?" Cordelia asked, caustically, "Why am I not surprised?"

"Yeah, well maybe I noticed her 'cause she was actually had an air of humanity running through her," Doyle snapped back, "Unlike some cold-blooded reptiles who shall remain nameless."

"Guys," Angel warned sternly, "What else did you see, Doyle?"

He shrugged, "To be perfectly honest, not much. Definitely trouble brewing. Something to do with some doo-hickey called the 'Any Stone'. Ring any bells?"

Angel crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head vaguely, "Not really, no. We should look into it."

"Oh goody," Cordelia said with her habitual sarcasm, "Research party."

Despite her obvious complaints though she moved to sit behind the computer. Angel headed for the bookshelf, taking a volume. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Doyle grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair.

"Where you going?" he asked, leaning back against the desk as he opened the book.

"I'm gonna ask around," Doyle replied, taking his keys from the side, "See what people know. I could really do with the fresh air. There's a distinct stench of acid in here."

The last comment was obviously directed at Cordelia. She didn't even look up from the computer screen as she replied.

"Actually, I think you'll find that that's the aroma of poverty you trail along behind you," she said, sweetly.

Doyle looked outraged.

"Doyle," Angel said, feeling like a parent trying to deal with two bickering kids, "Just go, okay?"

"I'm outta here," Doyle grumbled, letting the door fall closed behind him.

"Cordelia," Angel said, turning to his self-appointed assistant, "Just work, okay? It is what I pay you for."

"Of course you're using the term 'pay' there in the loosest possible tense," Cordelia snorted.

Angel knew that consequences of getting into another money related argument with Cordelia could potentially be hazardous to his health, so sensibly he kept his mouth firmly shut.

****

PART THREE

"Okay," Anna said, surveying the table of equipment in front of her, hands on her hips, "I believe that's everything."

The lounge in her apartment had long been abandoned as a place relaxation. It had been converted quite nicely into part workshop, part storeroom and part base of operations. Where there should be a coffee table, there was a workbench covered in bits and pieces of electronics. Magazine racks were replaced by folders full of hand drawn blueprints, some of which had found fruition and some of which were still waiting to be built on a rainy day. Where her TV had once been, the cabinet had become storage space for all sorts of electronic equipment - ammeters, soldering irons, spare wires, circuit boards… Over the years she had been here her lounge had turned into a fully working electronics lab.

"Found the bag," Jamie said, returning from the bedroom, carrying a holdall. A grin split his face as he dumped it on the floor. "And look what I found in it." He held up his hand, letting the stocking unravel so he was pinching it between his thumb and forefinger, swinging it back and forth. His grin widened. "Honestly, Anna, I didn't think you were that kind of girl," he teased.

"Give me that," she scolded hurriedly, snatching it off of him and stuffing it in her pocket, reddening slightly in embarrassment.

Jamie laughed at her reaction as he knelt on the floor. Taking the equipment off of the coffee table he placed it carefully in the bag nearby. Night vision glasses. Electronic lock picks. Swipe card attached to a keypad which Anna claimed could break the code on any door. A device for interrupting magnetic locks. Infrared goggles for spotting laser beams. A key ring which could be pointed at any security camera and frazzle its circuitry. A couple of cables and an electronic screwdriver in case they needed to by pass anything. A few more items that he didn't recognise.

The old offices that they were breaking into shouldn't be high tech enough to warrant such gadgetry, but it was much better to go over prepared than under prepared.

Anna, assured that he wouldn't break any of her precious toys, moved to sit in front of her computer. She loved this machine. It was her pride and joy. She'd spent an awlful lot of time and money altering and upgrading it to her specifications. Some of the software she'd managed to get on it wasn't even legal in this - or, for that matter, any - country. Booting it up, she worked her way through the stringent security devices she had set up. No self-proclaimed hacker could ever live it down if someone actually managed to break into his or her own computer. She double-clicked on the appropriate file and it opened, the screen showing a map of a building and the surrounding area. Jamie came to lean over her shoulder.

"What's that?" he asked.

"The building we're breaking into," she replied, distractedly, checking the printer was ready.

He rolled his eyes. "I know what that," he said, sarcastically, "I was asking what all those lines are for."

She took a moment to press 'Print' before answering him. "This-," she said, pointing to a bright red cross, "Is where the stone is."

"X marks the spot," Jamie said with a chuckle, "Cute. How do you know it's there?"

"The element it's made of emits a specific electromagnetic signature," she explained, "I went down there yesterday, took some readings and triangulated the position."

"So these lines," he said, pointing to the red lines leading from it, "Are possible entry routes."

"Right," she said, "I'll be taking the easy one, in the window, up the stairs and out the fire-escape. The others are just in case."

"Be prepared," Jamie said, nodding.

"So say the Boy Scouts," Anna replied, picking up the finished print out.

Jamie looked at the map once more, realising that there was still one element he didn't understand. "What's these blue lines?" he asked, indicating the marks which ran around the streets outside the building. They had times attached to them.

Anna smiled. "Well, picture this scenario, Jamie. There I am, creeping into a building when an LA policeman comes by, walking his beat. He kicks up quite a fuss when he sees me climbing in the window. The noise alerts the demon that's meant to be guarding the stone - because of course I haven't been able to administer the sleeping gas yet. The demon comes out, the policeman panics, he pulls his gun-- you can see where I'm going with this. It gets terribly messy. But, with these pretty blue lines I can avoid that situation."

A look of enlightenment spread slowly over Jamie's face. "They're designated beats, aren't they? They tell you exactly where the cops are gonna be!"

"Uh huh."

"How the hell did you get these?"

She smiled, satisfied, "The LA police department has gone all efficient on us. And they were kind enough to leave it on their file system where any fool could find it."

Jamie's eyes widened in admiration, "You broke the police net?"

She preened a little at the obvious awe in the kid's face, "Yeah, and if you're a good boy I might just show you how. Now come on. We have an appointment with a stone."

****

PART FOUR

"Okay," Cordelia said to the two guys who hovered over her shoulders as she read off of the computer screen, "Any: One of the presiding demons in hell. Master of suffering."

"Sounds like a nice guy," Doyle muttered.

"Yeah, and I'm guessing that out of the presiding demons in hell, he is not the looker," Cordelia said, screwing her face up as she scrolled down to show a medieval drawing of the demon. All fangs, scales and claws. Definitely not the kind of guy you want to get rowdy around.

"And this stone," Doyle mused, looking to Angel, "You say it's gonna summon this fellow?"

Angel nodded, gravely, "I couldn't find any specific mention of the Any Stone itself, but generally items such as that are used in the ceremony to call forth the demon."

"Well, Vinny the Runt definitely said he saw a bunch of Lant'als chatting to some Greba's about buying it," Doyle said, hands in pockets, waiting for Angel to decide what to do next.

"So these Lant'al guys are gonna raise the demon?" Cordelia asked, looking up at the pair of them.

Angel nodded, "Lant'al are known for their destructive qualities. I wouldn't put it past them."

"And any idea what this has got to do with the girl in my vision?" Doyle asked, thinking back to what he had seen, "'Cause I got the feeling she was more involved in this than an innocent by-stander."

Angel shook his head, "Not a clue. I guess when we find the stone, we'll find out. Although, it would help if we knew where to start looking...." As usual, Doyle's vision had been horribly vague. There was no way he could have picked out a location from it, and there were so many places to hide something in this city. It looked like it was going to be a very long night. Or day, if you were a vampire.

"147 Carlton Avenue," Doyle said without hesitation.

Angel and Cordelia stared at him in amazement.

"What?" he asked defensively, seeing their looks, "I do have certain contacts, ya know."

"Yeah," Cordelia responded, "But usually they don't actually, you know, know anything."

"Well, this time they do, okay?" Doyle replied.

"Sure they can be trusted?" Angel asked, gently, still a little concerned. He knew the type of people - or demons - Doyle hung out with. Not exact Mr Reliability, any one of them.

"Yes," Doyle said, exasperated, "Jeez, what the hell is it with ya people? Ya act like ya don't trust me. I'm wounded, here."

"Fine then," Angel said, "We'll go."

" 'We'll'?" Doyle enquired, suddenly a little concerned himself.

"I don't know where it is," Angel reasoned.

"So, I can just tour guide, right?" Doyle asked hopefully, following him out, "As in 'show ya around and leave?' "

****

PART FIVE

"Are ya sure about this whole 'front door' approach?" Doyle asked worriedly, as he followed Angel to the main entrance of 147 Carlton Avenue. It was an old building, run down and disused, in a neighbourhood that even the squatters didn't want to live in. The perfect place to hide something.

"It's a plan," Angel said with an easy shrug.

Doyle shook his head vigorously, "No. This is what ya do when the actual plan ya have fails. This is a back-up plan."

"It's just been promoted."

"Angel, man," Doyle protested more firmly, "Far be it for me to question ya judgement an' all. I mean, you're the experienced fight-the-forces-of-darkness guy, and I'm kinda a novice but....are ya cracked? 'Cause this 'plan' of yours is beyond stupid."

Angel smiled slightly as they reached the door. "Well, they'll never see it coming," he reasoned as he raised a foot and, with one firm kick, knocked the door backwards. It landed with a thud on the floor, kicking up a pile of dust.

Doyle sighed, shaking his head, "Ya've been dead way too long, man. It's affectin' ya brain."

Angel smiled slightly. Sometimes he wondered the same thing. Surely being undead for two hundred years could not be good on the body. Normal vampires – by which he meant the evil, souless kind – became more grotesque as time went on, they're bodies taking on a far more demonic appearance. A prime example of this was The Master. As far as Angel was aware, he had been alive over 600 years when Buffy had finally killed him. And he wasn't exactly the belle of the ball. Time had made him more into the monster he really was. Would that happen to Angel too? Or would his human soul prevent that? It wasn't really vanity that bothered him. Hell, it wasn't like he could see him in the mirror anyway. It was the fact that if his appearance did begin to change, he would have to become more ostrasised from human society than ever. How could he help the helpless when he couldn't walk amongst them?

Brushing the thoughts aside, deciding that the inner discussion was a pointless one, he rooted his attention back on the task at hand.

He took a half step forward into the semi-darkness before his enhanced senses picked up something. He slammed an arm across in front of Doyle, blocking his path into possible danger. Doyle jumped at the sudden movement, but Angel ignored this as he sniffed the air sharply, his smile fading to a frown.

Doyle waited for an explanation as to why his boss had neigh on given him a heart attack. Angel was horrible silent however, doing that ponderous look that he seemed to have down to a tee.

"What is it?" the half-demon asked when he couldn't stand the suspense any longer.

"Something smells strange..." Angel muttered, shaking his head, unable to precisely pin point it. While he was pretty certain that something definitely wasn't right here, they still had to go in. "I wouldn't breathe in too deeply," he advised, thankful that he didn't need oxygen himself.

Doyle nodded, pulling a handcheif from his pocket and covering his nose and mouth with it. It wasn't great but it would have to do.

They stepped inside carefully, moving over the fallen door and into the lobby. It was hard to tell what the building had once been, but there was a desk, some rotting cardboard boxes and piles of paper which suggested an office of some sort.

"They're always offices", Doyle said, the slight quiver in his voice betraying his nervousness. He didn't like this. He didn't like being surrounded by the type of darkness that you just knew was holding something about to jump out at you. "What the bleedin' hell did they need all these offices for anyway?" he continued to prattle on, feeling a bit better if he could hear something, even if it was only his own voice, "And why are they always abandoned?'

Angel didn't answer. He could smell something else now too. The odour of some sort of creature.

The big Lant'al demon was sprawled on the floor to one side, obviously having fallen off of a chair that didn't look like it could have posibly supported its bulk in the first place. Angel knelt down to check it over. Doyle stood just behind him, in case it wasn't as unconcious as it actually looked.

The Lant'al was still breathing, so very much alive, but the breaths were shallow and slow, just as if it was asleep. Which, Angel realised, picking up the object lying on the floor just by the demon, was pretty close to the truth.

"Cyclopropane," he said showing the canister to Doyle as he stood again and took a cursory glance around the room, "It's a gaseous anasthetic."

"It's gotta be pretty strong stuff to knock that big guy out," Doyle observed, his voice slightly muffled through the handkercheif as he pressed a little tighter to his face.

"Yeah," Angel muttered in return, "This isn't an amateur toy." He pointed to the rear end of the room. "Stairs," he observed, moving immediately towards them.

"I'm right behind ya," Doyle said quietly, glad for the fact. He glanced back at the demon for a moment before he continued. He guessed it would be fine. A little woozy when it woke up, but alive. And who cared anyway, it was only a demon. Just like he was...

He immediately evicted that thought from his head. He had to stop thinking like that, however much he believed it. He wasn't like these things at all. He was a human – partly anyway. He lived in the human world. He had nothing to do with these creatures.

And the more times he tried to convince himself of that, the less sure of it he sounded.

He quickly caught up with Angel at the base of the stairs, deciding that the safest thing was just to do what he always did and ignore the matter.

Angel, by very nature, was quite. Doyle wasn't. While the vampire crept up the stairs in silence, every footstep Doyle made creaked on the old wood. Angel glared at him slightly and Doyle shrugged in appology. Angel held his hand out, telling Doyle to wait there. The half-demon nodded in understanding and held his ground.

At the top of the stairs there was just one large room. The door was gone, lying at an obscure angle in the frame. Angel could see a shadow moving in the semi-darkness ahead. A person, looking at something on a pedastal which had pride of place in the centre of the room. It must have been placed there especially because it certainly didn't fit in with its surroundings. Deciding to get up behind the person while their back was turned to him he moved forward, stepping carefully over the fallen door.

Unfortunately for his plan and his sense of pride, his duster snagged on the door and yanked him off balance, causing him to stumble forward. Not the most dignified entrance he'd ever made.

The person turned round hurriedly, obviously startled, playing a flash light over him. Angel squinted as the bright light shone in his face and he shielded his eyes with his hand, trying to see who it was.

Thankfully the person quickly lowered the flashlight. Once his eyes got adjusted to the light again, Angel could see it was a young woman. Medium height, long, full dark hair. Angel supposed she could be considered pretty but he was more immediately concerned with the object she was holding in her hand. A stake. It wasn't that he was worried about her staking him - he was pretty sure he could disarm her - it was the fact that she knew what he was so easily.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he said, getting up slowly, not making any movements that could be interpreted as threatening. He didn't want this to end up with one of them getting injured or worse.

"Really?" she enquired, in a soft British accent that spoke of a good upbringing, "Because as I seem to recall that that's actually a vampire's raison d'etre."

"Look," Angel said, guessing that this was the girl Doyle had seen in his vision - she certainly fitted the description – "I was sent here to help you." His face turned to a frown as he saw what she'd been doing, "Although I don't think they meant help you steal that thing."

She glanced down at the box, padded with foam, lying on the floor and realised that it had given her away. Then she looked back up at the vampire again, wondering what he was going to do next.

Studying the creature for a moment, Anna realised that she had seen him before. An engraving somewhere. A face that handsome would certainly stick in her mind. She was pretty certain it was that special vampire, the one with the soul. Still, better to be safe than dead, she thought, not loosening her grip on the stake in her hand.

"What do you want it for?" he asked quietly.

Okay, well, that wasn't really the response she had expected from him. It threw her slightly, and she stuttered out, "Well, I...I just do..."

Angel didn't look impressed, " 'You just do?' What kind of reason is that?"

The woman appeared a little affronted by his attitude, "Oh, well I'm sorry if I don't have an evil masterplan for you to foil. I'm just interested in this. Now, if you'll excuse me..."

Angel crossed the distance to her quickly, standing inbetween her and the stone. He shook his head with a disbelieving smile, "You realise I can't let you take this."

"Why not?" she asked, hands on hips.

"Because it's stealing," Angel reasoned, "And I'm a private detective, which isn't quite a police officier, but similiar concept, hence I'm meant to, you know, make sure the law is upheld and, to cut a long story short – I can't let you take this."

She looked at him with a frown for a moment, knowing that his attitude was an attempt to get some sort of camaraderie going. But she wasn't falling for it.

"Do you want to end up as part of the filth in here?" she said, scowling, holding up the stake once more.

He shook his head with a small smile, "You're not going to use that. Go on, ask me why."

She scowled a little more, loathing to do what he wanted her to. Still, her curiousity wouldn't let her rest. She lowered the stake. "Why?" she asked, with a petulant pout.

"Because, if you were going to attack me I think you would have done it by now, and secondly you know that if I was going to attack you I would have done it by now too."

She shook her head, "Your grasp of the English language is truely awlful. Still, what can you expect from an American."

"Actually, I'm Irish," he defended, feeling just a little insulted. He tried to not let it show however. He knew it wouldn't make things run anymore smoothly.

She sighed impatiently, just wanting to get on with what she had come here to do. She tried to step round him but his sharp reflexes allowed him to immediately move in front of her. She glared up at him and side-stepped left. He followed her. Then she side–stepped right and again he dodged in front of her.

"Get out of my way!" she said in frustration, shoving him in the chest, making him stumble only very slightly.

"I told you, I can't do that," Angel said firmly.

"God! I think prefer you things when you don't have a soul," she muttered angrily.

Angel frowned, wondering how she knew who he was. He knew he was pretty infamous in the demon world, but still...He was prevented from asking her by heavy footsteps from behind them. Doyle ran up the steps and into the room, taking a moment to glance at the women. It was her, from his vision. The one who was in danger.

"Angel," he said, quickly, very slightly out of breath from having run up two flights of stairs, "We've got trouble."

"Trouble?" Anna asked, her frown deepening even more.

"The guy you dropped down there," Doyle said, thumbing back towards the entrance, "His mates just turned up. "

"What?" she asked, eyes wide, a little scared and a little shocked.

"There's a whole buncha them," Doyle said nervously, "And they ain't happy little bunnies."

She whirled on Angel, angry, "Are you out of your undead mind?"

"Actually, we've already had that conversation tonight..." Doyle said with a wry laugh.

She glared at him quickly, "And was I talking to you?"

Doyle held his hands up in a 'don't shoot' pose.

She turned back to Angel, poking him in the chest, "Do have any idea how long it took me to plan this thing? How careful I was to make sure that something like this didn't happen? How dare you come along and get me into something like this?!"

Angel grabbed at her finger, to stop her prodding at the same sore bit on his chest, "We came here to help you, okay? Doyle gets visions from-"

"Help me?" she asked, incredulously, "What by bringing a horde of marauding demons here?"

"We didn't bring them here," Angel defended, "I think they're pissed off about you breaking in."

"I was doing just fine until you came here trying to do your goody two shoes bit," she fumed back.

"Er guys?" Doyle interupted, suddenly realising how Angel must feel when he had to listen to himself and Cordy going at each others throats, "Now is really not the time for that whole 'blame' thing, since we're all about to be equally dead unless we do somethin' 'bout it sharpish."

As if on cue three large Lant'al demons burst through the door, ripping what was left of the frame away from the wall. Lant'al's – pretty much 'crush, kill, destroy' kind of demons even when they weren't incredibly angry. They were built like houses with tough outer scales. Their only vulnerable point was their necks. There was a slit in their amour that a well placed sharp object could easily pierce, leaving it free to go straight into their windpipe. Another bonus was the fact that they were so big, only one could fit through the door at a time. Although, once they were actually through the door, they're size wasn't really a bonus at all. In fact it was a very large problem.

Angel quickly ran to an up turned wooden table and stomped down on the leg, snapping it off and leaving a suitably sharp point. "Keep an eye on her," Angel said grimly to Doyle, heading forward to meet their guests as the Irishman ushered the woman further back in the room.

"Don't ya worry yourself," he said, noting her rather grim expression, "Angel does this all the time. He's a professional."

"Oh, well that's comforting, thanks," she replied with a definite tinge of sarcasm.

The pair of them watched as Angel tackled the demon coming through the door, swinging the beam at its head. The blow contected, but the demon shook it off as if nothing had happened. It grimaced at Angel and backhanded him across the chest, sending him sailing through the air. He landed on the floor with a bone rattling thud.

Doyle looked back at the woman with a shrug, "Well, even the professionals need a bit o' help sometimes."

He picked up an old piece of scafolding that was handily lying abandoned close by and went straight up to the demon that was looming over Angel. Now, he had a pretty good idea that he couldn't actually hurt the thing. The least he could do was keep it occupied until Angel got to his feet again, and hope in the mean time that it didn't kill him. To his surprise, his blow contacted with the knee of the creature sending it falling forward. Angel rolled aside just in time to prevent himself from being crushed.

"Thanks," he said to Doyle as he got to his feet, "And duck".

Doyle's eyes widened, knowing that could only mean badness behind him, and he did as he was told. Angel jammed forward the table leg he was still holding and almost miraculously managed to embed it right in the throat-slit of the Lant'al who was stalking up from behind Doyle. It howled, clutching desparately at its neck as it toppled backwards, dead before it hit the floor.

The impact of the full weight of the demon, caused the already unstable floor to groan and creak painfully. And with the other two Lant'al stomping around, the structure didn't sound like it was going to hold up.

"Time for a nifty exit, stage right," Doyle said to Angel as they ran to collect the woman.

"There's a fire escape on the left wall," Angel said, thankful that he'd noticed it on the way up.

They grabbed at the woman as they passed, not stopping to explain. She wasn't particular condusive to their stragedy, struggling in their grasp as they pulled her along. She couldn't break free, but she did manage to snatch up her bag as they passed it. At the window, they finally let go of her. Angel yanked it open and briefly checked outside for danger before turning back to the others.

"Climb down," Angel ordered, firmly, giving the woman his most I'm-not-to-be-messed-with glare.

She scowled at him, not in the least bit fazed, "And you expect me to do what you say because...?"

"Otherwise you'll die," he suggested as the floor began to crack even louder.

Okay, she knew he had her with that one, but still.... "I don't like being man-handled", she protested, turning round to follow Doyle as he backed out of the window.

One foot touched the metal of the fire escape before she realised she'd forgotten something. Something winking at her invitingly in the moonlight that invaded the room. The glow of the dark, smooth material that the stone was made of wasn't bright but it eclipsed the danger of the two staggering Lant'al. She felt a strange tightening in her stomach, a constricting of her throat. Going back for it was crazy – it was a death wish. But to just leave it there...to not grab it when it was so close. It would just be a little trip there and back. Nothing would happen to her. She'd be fine. Nothing had happened to her yet. Why should this time be any different? She felt an excited rush go through her – a surge of adrenaline that seemed to drown her concerns in its wave, it's wake leaving her with a certainity that today would not be the day the world finally caught up with her.

Doyle saw the look in her eye and knew what it meant. It was the same glazed look he imagined he used to get when he saw a finest bottle of Malt Whiskey. However much you told yourself to leave it and walk away - that you didn't really need it - your body seemed to be on autopilot, taking no heed of your mind and doing its own thing.

"Angel!" he called out as a warning, the second that she moved.

The vampire, who had been keeping an eye on the Lant'al, turned back sharply, only to have a bag shoved into his face, which he instinctively held onto.

"Back in two," the woman said, smiling slightly, and heading back into the room.

Angel was too astounded to react with any speed. He tossed the bag at Doyle who fumbled slightly but caught it as Angel lunged to grab at her. He missed by inches, cursing under his breath as he fell to his hands and knees.

Anna had always been pretty nibble on her feet. Hoping and jumping, she picked away across the sections of the floor that looked the most stable, plucking the stone off of the pedestal and tucking it into the waistband of her Capri pants. The nearest Lant'al roared in fury as it saw what she was doing. It swung at her head viciously, aiming to detatch it from her shoulders. Catching the movement out of the corner of her eye, she shrieked and threw herself backwards landing with a crack on the floor. Within moments she felt a pair of hands under her arms dragging her to her feet and forcing her to move. Her brain felt a little out of sync, but her feet seemed to get the message as they ran for the window.

Angel used his body to shield hers as chunks of plaster fell out of the rapidly disintergrating ceiling. Stopping at the window, he allowed her to go through first, ushering her out, making sure she actually went this time. He followed her immediately out onto the small metal landing and Doyle lead them all down hurriedly. They'd only gotten a few feet from the base of the final ladder when there was a tremendous crash and an explosion of dust and fine debris flew out of the windows, showering over them, as the first floor met the ground floor.

It was raining outside, the kind of torential thunderstorms that LA was prone to after a hot day. Water poured down the streets in rivers and even where there was good drainage, the ground was under an inch of rain. The three of them were soaked in a instance. Not that it seemed to help clean them off at all. The dust that had settled over them just seemed to stick despite the shower, rolling in streaks down their faces.

Angel and Doyle looked up at the building which they'd narrowly escaped from, then at one another.

"Now do you see why I don't want ta come out wit' ya anywhere?" Doyle asked, taking a deep calming breath. "Look what ya did."

"I don't think I really deserve all the credit for this one," Angel said, obviously angry. And why not? She'd endangered all their lives up there.

"Speakin' of which," Doyle said, nodding past him.

Anna had spent a moment looking at the stone, checking she'd hadn't broken it in all the excitment. It would have been a terrible shame to have gone to all that trouble for damaged goods. Luckily it was perfectly fine. That put a beaming smile on her face. Striding up to Doyle, bumping past Angel and ignoring him, she held out her hand expectantly.

"Bag, please," she demanded.

Doyle jumped slightly, realising did indeed still have her bag slung over his shoulder. As he took it off she snatched it with a curt 'thankyou' and crouched down to place the stone carefully in the zip pocket. Standing once again, she undid the velcro strap on the bag and wrapped the two sides diagonally across her torso before securing it again.

She smiled at them brightly, "It was.....really rather irritating to have met you. Goodbye."

Spinning on her heels she began to walk off, Angel grabbing her arm once she'd gone a few paces. She sighed deeply as she turned back to look at him, "I had a feeling you were going to do that."

"Give me the stone," he said firmly, in no mood for nicities anymore.

She screwed her face up in annoyance, "No."

"Now," he demanded, in a tone that even made Doyle wince slightly.

It seemed the girl was made of sterner stuff though. She held her ground determinely, "You're not having it. It belongs to me."

"No, actually you just stole it from someone," Angel replied sharply, sarcasm tinging his voice.

"Yes," she said, matter-of-factly, "And they're all dead. I have it. Possession is what? Nine tenths of the law? Hence it's mine. Good night."

She wrenched her arm out his grip, wincing as she turned away from him. Okay, now that had hurt. Definitely pulled muscles there. It was going to be sore in the morning.

Angel who was by now drenched, battered, dirty and bruised, was in absolutely no mood for negotiation. He grabbed her bag from the back, meaning to pull the stone out himself. He couldn't have an object as dangerous as that left out on the streets.

The instincts honed from the self-defence classes she'd taken kicked in. An attack from behind? Turn and face it – you're less vulnerable that way. Then disable your attacker as quickly as you could and get away.

Without thinking, she brought her knee up, connecting with his groin.

Angel cried out in pain and pitched forward onto his knees, all thoughts of the stone immediately erased as coloured lights weaved their way back and forth in front of his vision, making him feel as if he was going to be sick.

Anna was momentarily stunned by the effectiveness of that. She never expected that to work on a vampire. Her sense soon came back to her however and she remembered what was next on her 'to do' list. Get away.

"Sorry," she muttered quickly with a vaguely appologetic smile before running off up the street.

"Are you all right, man?" Doyle asked placing a hand on Angel's shoulder, as he ran to join him. He grimaced sympathetically, empathising with his pain.

"No," Angel croaked out, "Go after her."

Doyle nodded. "Right," he said, setting off at a sprint down the street.

Anna had rounded the corner well ahead of him, knowing that Jamie would be waiting there with her car, and they could drive off into the night. She felt a little bad about what she'd done back there. She hadn't meant to hurt the poor man but....well, what was done was done, and best she could do was get out of here before he regained use of his lower body.

She came to abrupt hault however when she saw the big empty space where her car should be.

For a moment she thought she'd simply gotten turned around in all that had happened, but she realised that just wasn't the case. There was the boarded up side entrance she'd pointed out and off to the right was the discarded advertising cut out of a dog reading a newspaper which Jamie had found amusing. Now though there were also tire marks on the floor as if a car had made a screeching getaway.

"Oh, Jamie," she muttered, "I am going to kill you so very slowly and painfully...".

She turned back towards where she had come from, thinking that perhaps she could find somewhere to conceal herself until those two men had gone. Unfortunately that plan came to an abrupt end when she found herself face to face with the Irish man, the vampire limping up behind him.

"Oh dear...", she muttered, with a resigned sigh.

****

Part Six

"Hand it over," Angel said, holding his hand out expectedly to the woman sitting on the couch in the main office.

After finally catching her, they had decided it was best to get away from that building and out of the rain. Those Lant'al may have had friends who were beginning to wonder where they'd gotten to.

She looked at him sullenly, almost like an angry child. Her kitten soft features did give her a young appearance, but Doyle thought she had kind of an ageless quality to her. As his ma would say, she was an old soul.

Obviously realising that there was no getting out of it this time, she opened the bag, pulled out the stone and slapped it into his hand, making the point that she was doing this under duress and was not happy about it.

"That wasn't so hard now, was it?" he asked tightly, turning to head down to his appartment below.

She'd been silent all the way here, sulking almost, but now she spoke up as her curiousity kicked in, "What are you going to do with it?"

"Put it where no one can use it to raise a hell demon," he suggested, his voice still angry despite the final outcoming being that they had the stone and all were safe.

Her eyes widened a little. "So that's what it does," she said in realisation, before looking down for a moment, thoughtfully. "Well, no wonder those Lant'al wanted it so desparately," she explained to herself.

Angel's glare turned to a frown, "You didn't even know what it was? What the hell did you want it for then?"

She shrugged, "Just curious."

"Curious enough to risk your life?" he enquired, frown deepening.

Again she shrugged, "The prize wouldn't really be worth much if there wasn't a challenge involved."

Angel looked at her a moment, almost not believing what was coming out of her mouth. How could anyone be that reckless on purpose? "Nothing is worth a life," he growled darkly, stalking off downstairs.

There was silence for a moment, then she smiled wanely at Doyle, "Oh, he really doesn't like me, does he?"

"Ya know," he said coming to sit next to her, "I think he's a bit embarrased. It's probably been a long time since he's been dropped by a swift knee in the happy-sacks."

She winced at the memory, "That wasn't the niciest thing I've ever done."

"But that was the dumbest thing ya'd ever done, right?" he enquired, "Runnin' back in ta get that doo-hickey, I mean. Because I can't see how ya'd ever top that."

"Oh, you'd be surprised," she said almost cryptically.

There was silence for a moment as he looked at her without a trace of humor.

She turned her attention away from him, uncomfortable with the way he looking at her. Scrutinising her so deeply, as if he was trying to work out what made her tick.

"And everyone's alive, aren't they?" she reasoned, moving the conversation along as she began to ring out her wet ponytail, causing a small pool of water to form on the floor, "The stone is safe. Things turned out all right. Which they wouldn't have done if I hadn't taken that risk. It's the end result that counts."

"Ya keep goin' like that then someday the end result is goin' ta be you dead," Doyle said grimly.

She frowned, "And what makes you think I make a habit of doing things like this?"

Doyle smiled, "Well, that bag of toys ya got there – that ain't amateur stuff, darlin'."

"Well, I'm not a professional theif if that's what you've concluded," she said pulling off her shirt and wringing that out too. Not that it made a difference since her vest top was soaked.

"I didn't conclude anythin'" he replied, "And would ya like a towel or somethin' rather than soakin' the floor? 'Cause the girl who works here is goin' go nuts when she sees this."

Anna shook her, "Sorry. And no, I don't want towel. I'm only going to go out and get soaked again anyway. Could I just use your phone? There's a certain teenage delienquent I need to call to get my car."

"Sure, darlin'. It's on the desk."

"Thank you," she said standing, "And it's not 'darling'. It's Anna."

She held out her hand and he shook it, "Doyle. My boss down there is Angel."

"Yes, I've heard of him," she said. She picked up the phone and began dialing in the numbers, giving Doyle no chance to ask how she'd heard of his boss.

Jamie answer his cell phone after five rings.

"An?" asked the tinny voice, "An? Is that you?"

"Yes," she said, clearly cross and not in the least bit affected by the mixed sounds of concern and relief in his voice. "Where are you, Jamie?

"I'm-".

"Never mind," she interupted, suddenly deciding she didn't care. All in all this had been a bad night and all she wanted to do now was going home and dry off. "Have you got this phone signal on the tracker?"

"Yep."

"Got a location yet?"

"Yep."

"Well, I'm there. Come and get me."

"It's only round the corner," Jamie said, a little nervously, knowing she wasn't going to like this, "Which is a bit of a luck really since I'm going to be walking it."

"Walking i-?" she began before a horrible realisation hit her. Her eyes widened so much Doyle thought they may actually fly out of there sockets. And, considering the world he lived in, he wouldn't be totally surprised if they did.

"Jamie!" she exclaimed, a distinct look of worry on her face, "What have you done with my car?"

"Hey," he defended, "I haven't done a thing, okay? _It _gave up on _me_. I was just an innocent by-stander."

"Innocent by-stander my-" she said, catching herself, realising that there was no point in going into this now. "Look, just lock it and get over here okay. I'll deal with it in the morning."

She put the receiver down and turned back to Doyle.

"Well, thank you for all your....well, I so want to say help, but really it was interference," she admitted with a beaming smile, "And don't take this personally, but I really hope I don't see you again."

She'd only taken a few steps past him when she turned back, realising something she'd forgotten to ask, "By the way, why where you there tonight?"

Doyle wondered about how much to tell her for a moment. Could she be trusted? After a moment he decided there was no harm in it. She didn't seem evil...

"I get visions," he explained, "Sent to me by a higher power. They're things that are goin' ta happen. About people in danger, like. Then Angel goes and rescues 'em."

"Is that what he was doing tonight?" she enquired dryly, "Rescuing me? Because I don't remember being in trouble before you two arrived."

"No, I think you were," Doyle said rather cryptically. The way she had thrown herself into danger like that disturbed him when he thought about it more closely. What kind of state must you be in to so blatently not care what happened to you? Thrill seekers and adrenaline junkies weren't something he had a lot of experience with, but he knew about addiction. About pushing the boundaries further and further back because the more you do it, the more of a high you need. How it got so bad that eventually you only felt alive when you were riding on the narrow edge. Trouble was that sooner or later you were going to fall off and it was a bloody long way down.

Crossing to the filing cabinet quickly he picked up one of their calling cards that lay in a pile there. "Take this," he insisted, "In case ya eva run inta any trouble ya can't handle."

She smiled politely but declined, "I don't want it. And besides," her face split into a smile again, "I haven't got anywhere dry to put it. It would be pulp by the time I got home."

Doyle nodded in acceptance, knowing he couldn't force her and also that she'd never be back to ask for their help even if she did take it. He watched as she picked up her soaking shirt and tied it round her waist, not bothering to put it on. And what would be the point? It was still raining and that would only make her feel wetter.

"Do ya want a lift anywhere?" he offered, feeling bad about letting her go out like that, "It's still pourin' buckets outside. Angel's car is downstairs. I could drop you and ya friend off."

Again she declined, "I'd only get seats wet. And I really don't think going out there is going to make much difference. I'm wet as it's humanly possible to get anyway."

He smiled slightly, "Bye then. See ya around."

She smile was warm, but somehow a little sad, "No. You really won't."

Doyle was only left standing there alone for a few moments before Angel rejoined him, toweling down his wet hair. He'd changed into another set of black shirt and trousers and was looking ultimately a lot more calm and comfortable than when he'd gone downstairs. He tossed a second towel at Doyle who caught it gratefully. His jacket had kept most of it off but he was still pretty wet.

"Where'd she go?" Angel asked, noticing that they were alone.

"Away," Doyle explained simply, "She's gonna meet a friend outside."

Angel nodded dumping the third clean towel he'd brought with him on the desk. Doyle smiled slightly at the sight of it. Okay, so the woman may have inflicted a pain on him that no man should ever had to suffer, but the guy still wasn't going to let her just stand there and drip. That's the stuff the heroic types were made of, he guessed.

"Looks like her friend's late," Angel commented, peering out the window.

Doyle joined him there, looking out to see Anna standing on the street, bouncing on her heels as she waited impatiently in the rain. She kept checking up and down the street, obviously seeing nothing.

"Didn't sound like the most reliable bloke in the world," Doyle admitted, still watching her as Angel moved over to the coffee machine.

"You want some?" he called back to the half-demon. When there was no reply, he looked up to find Doyle's gaze rooted out the window, undeniably on the woman still standing below.

"Doyle," he said again, tossing his wet towel at the back of the other man's head. It hit him with a wet slap and the Irish man turned round in surprise, "Do you want coffee?" Angel asked again.

"Yeah, thanks," Doyle said a little distractedly, quickly returning his gaze to the street.

Silenced reigned between them for a short while as the coffee machine gurgled away happily. When it finished, Angel brought Doyle's mug over and leant against the window next to him.

"Still there, I see," he commented, nodding at her. She'd taken to pacing by now, perhaps in an effort to keep her just a little bit warmer while she waited. Or maybe it was just to do something. Angel had the distinct feeling that she really wasn't the 'sit-still' type.

There was silence again.

"What's up, Doyle?" Angel asked eventually, frowning at the concerned look on his face.

Doyle shook his head vaguely, "Nothin' really. Just a feelin'. Like this ain't settled ya know?"

"What do you mean?" Angel asked, in definite confusion.

"Well, the danger I sensed in my vision? I just don't think it was those demons."

Angel's face screwed up, "She's got more trouble than a group of Lant'al after her blood?" Then he smiled wryly, "Although with that woman, it wouldn't really surprise me."

Doyle shrugged non-commitally, "I dunno." There was another long pause, "But that guy still ain't there. And this ain't the kinda neighbourhood a young lady like that should be standin' around street corners on. I might just..."

He pointed towards the door and Angel nodded. Doyle was gone in a fast walk and Angel turned his attention back to the window and the woman down below. 'Anna', he had heard her say to Doyle. He heard some other things too, parts of their conversation which made him wonder if Doyle's concern wasn't due to a more emotional danger than a physical one. The Irishman knew about addiction. About how it could ruin your life. Maybe it was that he was trying to protect her from. And then again, maybe it wasn't, which was what kept Angel's gaze firmly on the street, just in case.

****

Part Seven

When Jamie finally appeared in view Anna let out an angry sigh. As if he hadn't caused her enough trouble that night.

"Hey, Anna," he said as a greeting, nervousness showing in his face. He had good reason too. He had abandoned her when she was in trouble and had, to all intents and purposes, broken her car. He knew she was going to be pretty mad.

"You okay?" he asked, trying to placate her.

She shook her head in disgust, "I don't want to know, Jamie. Okay? Just....let's go home. And perhaps tomorrow you can come with me and collect my car, taking the time to explain the reasons for your Road Runner act, hmm?"

He grimaced, "I'm so-"

"If you say you're sorry," she cut off, "I swear to God, I will not be held responsible for my actions."

He nodded, sensibly taking her advice. "Did you get the stone?" he asked, moving on to hopefully a more positve subject. The look on her face immediately told him that perhaps he should have avoided that one.

She shook her head, sharply, "No. Between you, a bunch of demons and the local friendly vampire, it's been a rather unsuccessful night all in all."

He frowned, confused. Sure, he'd seen the demons go in. It was the whole reason he'd taken off, his sense of self-preservation overiding any sense of loyalty he had. But 'friendly vampire?' What was that all about? 

His intention to ask was cut short by something else however. His eyes widening a little as he caught sight of something over her shoulder. "And I think your night's about to go down hill even further," he admitted in a small voice.

She whirlled around quickly, shielding her eyes from the rain she was now facing as she saw two ominous looking men coming down the street towards her. Turning back the other way, looking for an exit route, she saw they had two identical friends coming at her in the opposite direction. Before she had a chance to think, they were on her and Jamie. All rough looking and burly. Definitely trouble.

"Miss Anna Madison?" one of them enquired. He had a London accent.

She scowled, refusing to answer.

One of the other men chuckled, "Oh, it's 'er all right. It's gotta be. 'E's the only bloke I know who could look that cross. Must be in the genes."

And with that, she knew exactly who they were.

"Oh God..." she whispered under her breath, the horrible, stomach churning realisation of it hitting her. Why now? Why when she had finally made a fairly decent life for herself, by herself? It just wasn't fair. 

The first man looked at Jamie who's eyes were fearfully darting from one of them to the other, "Get out of here, lad," he advised, "You don't 'ave to get involved in this whole ugly business."

Jamie didn't need telling twice. Turning so sharply he fell, he stumbled quickly back to his feet and ran off down the street, constantly looking back to make sure they weren't following him.

Anna was shocked and outraged at his abandonment. Most of all however, she was disappointed. Again it had been proved that you just couldn't trust people. She didn't know why she continued to bother trying.

She didn't have much time to think about it though as the first two men advanced on her, backing her up against their companions, fencing her in. The first man was holding a rope, the second a gag.

"You've been very naughty, Miss," the first man said, with mock scolding, "And somebody wants a word with you about it."

She shook her head in fierce denial. "You can't just drag me off the streets like this! Someone will see you, idiot!"

The first man smiled, "Like who, luv?"

"Oh, I dunno," said a thankfully familiar Irish accent, "Ya'd be surprised at just who might come by when evil's afoot."

The men turned in unison to see Doyle standing at the foot of the steps by the building behind them, an angry expression on his face.

The first man scowled at him deeply, "Piss off, mate. This ain't your business You don't really want to get involved."

A figure stepped out of the shadows behind Doyle, a dark, dangerous look on his face. Angel did not like it when people were attacked outside his office. It was bad for business and it made him look incompetant. "Get out of here," he growlled.

"Calm down. We'll be out of your 'air in a minute. We've just got something we 'ave to deal with first." He reached forward to grab hold of Anna, not realsing how quick Angel was. The vampire had him in an arm lock before he was within a foot of her.

"I don't stand by and let this crap happen in my town," he growlled into the man's ear. He looked up at Anna, "Go inside," he ordered.

For once, thankfully, she did as she was told, Doyle ushering her behind him, a deep angry scowl on his face. Once Angel was sure she was safe, he shoved the other man into his companions, hard enough to make them stumble just short of falling.

"Go home," he warned, turning back to return to the office.

He'd only walked a couple of paces when the man with the rope threw it over his head, pulling it tight around his neck. Angel struggled to remove it, clawing but unable to get any grip. Meanwhile, the two uninjured men went menacingly towards Anna and Doyle, the first man clutching at his arm still. He kept back, barking out orders to the rest.

"Step aside," one of the men said to Doyle, making it an order.

Doyle shrugged, easily, glancing back as Angel went limp in the other man's grasp, feigning unconciousness, "I probably should, shouldn't I?" he said, taking in the build of the two guys in front of him.

The man who had spoken nodded.

"But there again," Doyle said brightly, "I never really was one for doing anythin' I should do."

He swung a right hook, contecting it sharply with the man's jaw, who clutched at it and staggered back, more surprised than anything. His companion wasted no time plowing into Doyle, backing him against the wall and laying a couple of hard punches into his mid section.

Anna looked around her for something to fight back with before remembering the bag that was still slung over her shoulders. Dropping it to the floor, she pulled it open just as Doyle was subjected to a punch square across the jaw. Grabbing the first heavy object that came to hand, she clunked his attacker over the head with with it. The guy immediately dropped Doyle as he slumped forward, teetering on the verge of unconciousness. Anna, mildly surprised at the effectiveness of that didn't see the fourth man. He grabbed her from behind and instinctively she threw her head back, catching him on the nose. By now the second man had discarded Angel and had come to help his comrades. He grabbed Anna by her shoulders and slammed her into the wall head first, causing her to slip to the floor in a dazed heap.

"You. Wait there," he said, turning to help the other two finish off Doyle.

To their surprise and Doyle's great relief, Angel's angry voice was heard behind them, "Three against one? Surely that's against the Queensbury rules."

All three men, stopped surprised turning to find Angel in full vamp face. He grabbed the two men nearest to him and clunked their heads together, sending them both into a daze, before taking the third man and throwing him, literally, into the street. Doyle, picking himself up, thinking how much he was going to hurt in the morning, and helped him throw the last two out.

"I don't like being strangled," Angel said to the group of thoroughly battered attackers, "It puts me in a bad mood. Which means that you had better put yourselves far out of my reach."

He turned swiftly back to the building entrance, not worried about a back attack this time. Those guys were not going to be in any state to do anything for a while yet. Doyle he found, fussing over Anna. The pair of them seemed in a pretty bad way. Doyle was going to be black and blue in the morning. Anna's nose was bleeding, and from the way she was swaying as Doyle tried to help her up, it looked like she had a concussion too.

"Are you guys, okay?" Angel asked. Stupid question, he knew, but he had to ask out of sheer courtesy.

"Oh, I'm just peachy," Doyle said, with a small half-smile, "Ya know, apart from the majority of me which is battered and bruised to a pulp."

"I think I'm going to be sick," Anna complained, with a small wimper.

She staggered again and both Angel and Doyle grabbed at her.

"I think we should take her inside," Angel suggested, already beginning to steer her by the shoulders, towards the door.

"Sure," Doyle said, "Just as long as she doesn't actually chuck, 'cause I ain't explainin' that one to Cordy when she gets in tomorrow."

****

Part Eight

Angel tossed Doyle the first aid kit as he re-entered the office. The Irishman wasn't in particularly good shape himself, but he had already taken charge of Anna. He had her sitting on the sofa with her head tipped back and a wad of tissues pressed against her nose. Thankfully the bleeding had stopped and she no longer felt the urge to be sick. Still, she had one mammoth of a headache working itself up.

"Can I put my head straight now?" he asked, her voice muffled through the tissue.

"No," Doyle said firmly, searching through the box to find a plaster the right size for the cut on her head.

"I'm putting my head down now," Anna stated flatly.

"I said, 'no'," Doyle replied, sounding almost frighteningly like he had back his school teaching days as he'd talked to naughty third graders.

Anna put her head back straight, pulling the tissue away, "And your point is?"

"That could start bleedin' again, ya know," Doyle said with a slight hint of exasperation, knowing his words were falling on deaf ears.

"Well, my neck hurts," Anna complained, pouting.

Doyle shook his head, "Fine. Just let us put this on ya." He crossed over to her, holding out the plaster he'd found. Much to his surprise, she didn't argue with him in the slightest.

Angel, who had been quietly observing the whole charade, finally spoke up from his perch on the edge of his desk.

"So, are we going to do some serious beating around the bush here?" he asked, "Or are you just going to tell us what those guys from the Watcher's Council wanted with you?"

That was it. No gentle approach, no treading lightly around the topic. Straight for the jugular. And why not? He and Doyle had just got into a fight because of it. He felt it gave them a right to know.

Anna's eyes widened and she starred at him for a moment, slightly open mouthed. The look in her eyes told him that she simply didn't know what to do. Tell him the truth? Lie? Run out?

"And if you're wondering how I know," he said, giving her a moment to make up her mind, "I've run into those guys before."

Yes, he recognised two of them as the ones who had been with Wesley when the young Watcher had come to relieve him of Faith, the rouge Slayer. Just when he was getting through to her as well. He knew them to be some of the Council's heavies and assumed they were only used when something serious was involved.

Anna looked at him steadily, noticing that Doyle had moved behind her slighty. Ready to stop her if she decided to bolt, she guessed. Which really left her no choice..."Well," she said in a very offhand way, "If you must know, they work for my father. He's been looking for me since I ran away from home."

"Your father?" Angel enquired, prompting her to continue.

"Oh, he's a big wig in the Watcher's Council. On the board. And he doesn't take too kindly to having such a wayward daughter," she smiled slightly, "I think I embarrass him."

"When d'ya leave home?" Doyle asked, frowning slightly. This wasn't a particularly pleasent tale she was telling them, and here she was grinning as though it was all a great adventure.

"When I was fourteen," she explained simply, "I came to America and have spent the last eight years working my way from the East coast to here in the West."

"As a thief?" Angel enquired dryly.

Anna scowled slightly, annoyed by the acusasion, "As a waitress and a barmaid."

Angel didn't bother responding to that one. His aching head could do without the argument. "Fine," he said, in a forceful manner, "Doyle, you should probably get yourself home. Looks like you can do with a rest."

The half-demon nodded with a smile, "To be honest wit' ya, I could do wit' a large bottle of Ireland's finest but I don't think I need a hangover on top of concussion tomorra. So, rest it is. You two gonna be all right?"

"Well, be fine," Angel reassured, "Anna can stay here with me tonight."

"Excuse me?" she asked, hands on hips, "And when exactly was I going to get a say in this?"

Angel sighed wearily, "Look we can do this one of two ways – either you stay here tonight or you force me to camp outside your door. And since I think you've caused me just about enough trouble for one evening, could you please just do things my way this time?"

The was a small defiant moment before she relented with a nod.

"Good," Angel said, relieved. He'd actually been a little afraid that she would make him sit outside her door, just to piss him off. She seemed to be very good at that.

"You need anythin', just give me a bell, okay?" Doyle said, picking up his jacket as he headed for the door, "As long as it ain't too early 'course."

Angel smiled slightly, "'Night, Doyle."

"See ya. And you, kitten," he said with a grin. Just earlier on that evening she had told him that he would never see her again. Doyle had known then that she was wrong.

" 'Kitten'?" she enquired of Angel with a frown.

He just shrugged and lead her swiftly down to his appartment before she changed her mind. "First thing's first," he said, watching as she gazed with interest around his home, "Get out of those wet clothes."

"I beg your pardon!" she said, turning to him with a surprised look.

Angel let out a small laugh, "I'll get you a shirt or something. It'll be like a dress on you."

"Hey," she called at his retreating back, "I am not that short, thankyou."

Angel quickly scouted through his wardrobe for the longest shirt he owned. He did consider giving her his dressing gown, but the thing would drown her. Besides he'd need it himself if he was to have a guest. No running around in his underwear the next morning.

The one he dug out was actually one of the few he owned which wasn't black or charcoal grey. This one was dark blue. He'd never really liked it that much. Which was a good thing since everything she got involved with seemed to have a tendency of ending in a state of disarray.

Handing it and a towel to her he pointed to a doorway. "Bathroom's there if you need it. Now, go get some sleep. You can take the bed."

"Too bloody right I can," she said, stepping round him to go to the bathroom.

Angel sighed. Well what had he expected? Gushing thanks?

He walked across the room and settled onto the sofa, hoping it wasn't really as uncomfortable as it looked.

Anna paused just as her hand hit the door handle. She turned back to him and frowned, "Angel?"

"Hmm?" he asked, looking up.

"Why?"

"'Why' what?"

"Why are you putting yourself out for me like this when all I've done in the few hours you've known me is get you injured or endangered in one way or another?" The expression on her face was genuinely curious. She really had no idea why he was helping her.

He looked at her steadily, hoping to get the message across, "Because that's what is says on the answer phone message. 'We help the helpless'. Not that I'm saying you're helpless," he adding promptly before she had a chance to protest, "Just that you deserve to be helped. I mean, what were you going to do if you left here tonight? Run away? Leave everything behind? You shouldn't have to do that."

She met his gaze thoughtfully for a moment before breaking the stare and ducking into the bathroom. Angel laid back down, satisfied. He was certain that he'd gotten through to her.

"Angel?"

He sat up again to see her head sticking out of the door.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

She smiled warmly, and Angel realised that actually she was quite sweet looking. Definitely not the cold stone monster she sometimes made herself out to be. She quickly disappeared inside the bathroom again and Angel lay back down, sporting a smile of his own.

****

PART NINE

"Sounds like great fun," Cordelia said brightly after Doyle finished telling her the tale of last night's exploits, "And there was me sitting at home in my nice cosy apartment, not in any phyiscal danger – can't believe what I missed out on."

Doyle snorted a short laugh, "Princess, I've seen your appartment – it ain't cosy and if someone ain't in physical danger in that dump..."

She shook her head, choosing to ignore him, "And it just goes to show I was right."

Doyle frowned in confusion, wondering if he'd missed a sentence or two back there, "Eh?"

"Those Watcher Council guys," she explained, "I knew they were no good. I mean, all straight-up and saying they're looking out for the world – no one is that selfless. Had to have a seedy side. I always figured they had, like, a dirty mag business on the side or something. How else would they fund themselves?"

"Car boot sale?" Doyle suggested.

Cordelia gave him a dry look, but he was saved her catty remark as Angel burst into the office in a state of array - his hair all over the place, his shirt half hanging off.

"Oh," Cordelia said in a sudden state of enlightenment, "So vampires do get bed-head."

"Where is she?" Angel asked, sounding a slight bit panicked.

Doyle joined him on the express bus to panic-city, knowing exactly who he was talking about, "What? She ain't down there wit' you?"

Angel rolled his eyes slightly, "Well, unless she's playing hide and seek without my knowing, no."

Doyle immediately forgave him for the caustic remark. Obviously the guy had just dived out of bed at a time which was practically the middle of the night for vampires. That girl had caused him enough trouble in past twenty-four hours and she seemed determind to continue the trend.

All in all, Doyle had been pretty laid back about the whole sceneario this morning. It made a change, fighting human foes rather than demon ones. Somehow it made him feel a little more comfortable. Firstly, for some reason he didn't feel like they were so dangerous. And maybe they weren't. A guy with a rope was small peanuts compared to an eight foot salivating monster with twelve inch fangs. Secondly, it kind of distanced him from the demon world a little. One of the major problems he found with working with Angel was that he was constantly having his demon heritage shoved in his face, right where he didn't want it. It was nice to concentrate on something less close to home for a while.

Now however, the all-too-familiar-in-recent-times feelings of panic and forboding began to creep up on him.

"Where the hell'd she go?" he asked, pondering more to himself and anyone, and really meaning to say 'how can she be so dumb as to go out alone?'

"To work," Cordelia said casually, her eyes on the computer screen in front of her. She was trying to create a time sheet for herself so she could show Angel exactly how much over time he owed her for. "There was a note on the desk when I got here."

Doyle followed her semi-wave and found the offending piece of paper. There was a quick sentence to say she had to go into work. That was it. No address. No phone number. Hell, they didn't even know she had a job.

"Why didn't ya say somethin'?" Doyle asked, passing it to Angel.

Cordelia shrugged, "Should I have done?"

Doyle sighed, there was no point debating it with her. Wasn't like he'd get an appology or anything. Instead he went straight to the desk and picked up the phone, punching the redial button.

"What are doing?" Angel asked, joining him.

"She was the last one to use the phone," Doyle explained, listening in the earpiece as the ringing tone started, "Rang that mate of hers. Maybe he knows where she works."

Angel listened in, concerned, as someone at the other end answered and Doyle spoke.

"Hi......Name's Doyle, I'm a friend of Anna's.....No, she's fine.......Yeah, I'll tell her, okay, but I...." an exasperated look came over his face as he listened to the kid rattle on, "Look, would ya let me talk, this is important.....I need to know where she works.....Right.....The address?.....Okay, got it....Cheers.....Yeah, I'll get her to call you....." He put the phone down hurriedly. "I'll go get her," he said, picking his jacket up off of the side.

"You gonna be all right on your own?" Angel asked. Not that there was much he could do about it. It was daylight and that meant no guarantees on how freely he'd be able to safely move around even if he did go.

Doyle nodded, "Yeah. Those fella are probably pretty beat up still. Don't think they'll be up to much today. I know I'm not."

****

PART TEN

"Half past nine, sweetcakes?" he asked, sliding up to her as she tied her hair back with a rubber band, "You're late. Also, I don't think your ensemble fits the dress code. That grunge look just isn't you."

Anna smiled slightly. Her employer usually had that affect on her. Even when he was effectively telling her off.

The bar she worked in, Caritas, was one of a kind. A demon karioke bar of all things. Run by a guy who was simply known as the Host. Tall, green, red horns and one hell of a singer. He was anagogic – able to read people's auras when they bared their souls during a song. He could then use this to advise them.

Anna wasn't entirely sure why she had ended up working here. It had just seemed to have happened. She'd been out of work for a couple of months when she had come into the bar. The diner she had been working at had been forced to close down. The neighbourhood it was in was just getting too rough and the owner wanted out.

Living on her small savings, Anna had been more than a little depressed. Her current lack of funds meant that she couldn't afford to play with her toys or invent new things. The parts and equipment were simply too expensive. She'd come in here, ordered a PVC cocktail to drown her sorrows in, then complained when the bartender had not got the mix right. She was just showing him how to do it properly when a green skinned demon had come up to her and offered her a job starting right away. She'd said a prompt 'yes'. That had been eight months ago. So far, she had never had reason to regret such a rash decision.

"If I told you why," she said, checking the delivery list in front of her preparing to head out back and see what had come in, "You would never believe me."

"Oh I don't know," he said, "I'm a pretty open-minded guy. Try me."

"I stayed over at a good vampire's place last night", she said brightly, "He doesn't have an alarm so I got up late. Then I didn't have time to go home and change."

The Host smiled, seemingly unfazed, "That's nothing compared to the excuses Enrique used to give me. Now there was a man who could fabricate a pretty tale. It was almost a shame to fire him. He was always entertaining." 

Anna's smile widened as she started to check the bar, seeing what she needed to stock up on. The place was open all day, but it never really got going until late at night. Even so, the lack of customers didn't mean lack of work.

"Do me a favour would you, sweetcakes?" The Host asked, proping himself onto one of the bar stools in front of her, "Mix me up a 'Blue Lagoon'. I'm in need of something mellow sounding."

"Good Lord," she said, quickly retrieving the relevant ingredients, "What has got into you?"

"Oh," he sighed dramatically, "The P.A system is down. Which means I'm musicless until the I can find an engineer that won't go catatonic when he sees some of our more usual clintelle. I feel at such a loss."

She passed him his hurriedly made drink, "Instead of the spiel, why didn't you just ask me if I'd fix it, hmm?"

He smiled. This one was definitely bright. "Well, it lacks a certain finesse, don't you think?"

She picked up her pad and paper which she'd been making notes on, "Let me just go out the back and stock the bar up, then I'll fix it. No need to worry your pretty green head."

"As always, sweetcakes," he said, raising his glass in a salute to her, "You are my saving angel."

She rolled her eyes and wandered off into the back room.

****

PART ELEVEN

Cordelia eventually gave up trying to do the time-sheet. She had wanted to do it in the form of one of those complex spread sheets that Ms Calender had taught them in computer class, but she just couldn't figure it out. To be perfectly honest, she couldn't even figure out what the 'help' page was all about. Her only other option was to type it all out by hand. And she had neither the time nor the inclination for that one. Besides, she'd only done her nails last night. Typing would chip them to bits.

Instead she decided to make a start on the more nail-friendly filing that was waiting to be done. The piles of paper sitting on her usually imaculate desk were testament to the fact that she hadn't devoted enough time to her work recently. Which was hardly surprising considering the problems she was having with her apartment. Okay, she knew it wasn't the greatest place in the world. The wall paper was peeling, the windows might as well not have glass in them for all the good it did at keeping the chill out and the water had a horrible tendency to come out a distinct shade of brown, but in the last week or so it had definitely deteriorated. The other day, she had actually found a dead cockroache in her kitchen. She had called the manager, but so far she had seen very little evidence of him actually doing anything.

The sudden thought of this got her angry and she reached for the phone book, filing forgotten. She was Cordelia Chase. She was mean and bossy and stood up for herself. No sleaze-pit slum lord was going to get the best of her. There must be someone she call to make him get his ass moving. Preferably for free.

Flicking through the pages, finding nothing particularly useful, an idea began to form in her head. Perhaps she could turn this to her advantage. Ring the newspapers and expose him. Better yet, T.V news. She could see herself on a CBS report right now – standing up for herself, being praised for her determination and bravery. Spielberg would be watching. Maybe Cameron. And next day she'd get a phone call from the man himself – not his agent because he wanted to speak to her in person – telling her that she was perfect for the gutsy female role in his next blockbuster. Maybe it would be a story of her own struggle – like 'Erin Brockavich', but without Julia Roberts. She'd play herself in an uplifting and heart warming story of how a rich-girl-gone-poor stands up for the rights of the helpless, not giving in though she endures extreme hardships. And of how, a gorgeous, successful businessman – played by Brad Pitt – sees her plight and helps rescue her. Together they bring down the slum lord and free the people from oppression - although she gets all the credit of of course, Brad was just being there for moral support.

So wrapped up was she in this dream that she didn't see the huge shadow looming outside the office window, even as she stood up and moved to the table next to the door, going to pick up a newspaper. Maybe they'd have CBS's number.

The thought cut short in her mind however as the door flew inwards, pushed by great force. It immediately struck her, carrying her along with it until it fell to the floor, trapping her underneath. Cordelia wasn't aware of this however. She was already unconcious.

****

PART TWELVE

Doyle had been in some pretty weird places in his time, but this was definitely the pinnacle.

Nice bar. Clean, tidy, well kept and well presented. The 'no violence, no weapons' policy was also a welcome change from most of the places he tended to frequent. But a demon karioke bar? Surely someone was pulling his chain?

"Well, well, well," said a flouncy, slightly camp voice from behind him, "You really are going for that ne'er do well hustler image, aren't you? Pulling it off quite spectacularly as well if I might add."

Doyle turned sharply on his heels to see a very tall, very green demon smiling down at him, a drink in his hand. He didn't recognise the species, but the guy seemed friendly enough so no reason to leg it.

"Tell me, pilgrim," the green guy said, the smile looking as if it was permanently plastered to his face, "What is a half-demon like you doing in a place like this?"

Doyle was momentarily stunned, "How the bleedin' hell did ya know that?"

The smile suddenly became a little mysterious, "Oh, you'd be surprised at what I know. Love the brogue by the way. It's such a refreshing change from the American accents or demon grunts that breeze in and out of this joint."

Doyle brushed the guy's comments aside, deciding that he'd best just get down to business, "I'm lookin' for someone."

"Really?"

"A girl," Doyle said after a short pause in which had expected the guy to ask 'who?', "Name's Anna. Dark-haired. Pretty. She works here."

The guy nodded, "Do follow."

He lead Doyle over to the bar and indicated for him to sit on a stool. Doyle obliged as the green guy stepped behind the bar and opened a door on the far right back wall.

"Sweetcakes?" he called down into the darkness, "There's someone here to see you."

Moments later, Anna stepped out of the door, struggling slightly to carry two large boxes of beer bottles. She palmed one off on The Host who looked a little miffed at the gesture, rolling his eyes as he followed her down the bar, "And since when do I partake in physical labour?"

"Since you were desparate for me to fix your sound system," she replied simply, dumping the box on the floor just the other side of the bar from Doyle. "Hi," she said, smiling brightly at him, as she started loading bottles into the glass fronted fridge, "What are you doing here?"

"Doncha think I should be the one askin' ya that question?" he said, just a little irritable. She wasn't even slightly appolgetic for the small panic she'd put them through, "Ya kinda left in a hurry this mornin'."

"Ooooh," the Host, drawlled with a grin, "So the whole vampire thing was just a cover. One of the more original ways to cover up an illict trist that I've heard."

Anna looked at him with a small glare. "We did not have a 'trist', illict or otherwise" she said a little tersely, "And unless you want your guests to be singing unaccompanied tonight, I suggest that this becomes a private conversation."

"Sweetcakes," he said with mock scolding, "I'm wounded. There was a time you used to tell me everything. You're breaking my heart."

"But I'm going to fix your sound system."

He smiled, "Consider me placated. I'll leave you two love birds to dispute."

"We're not 'love birds'," she called after his retreating form.

"I'm a romanitic fool," he admitted, walking back past her on the other side of the bar, "I can't help but hope for the best."

A roll of her eyes sent him retreating into yet another side door.

"A friend o' yours?" Doyle asked, shaking his head. Certainly was an unusual guy.

Anna smiled with a slight fondness, "My boss."

"He's a demon," Doyle stated.

"Really? Was it the green skin, horns and red eyes that gave it away?" she asked, gently teasing, "Or perhaps it was just that white suit and pink shirt ensemble?"

Doyle grinned slightly, before the reason for his visit settled back on his mind. "Ya shouldn't be here," he said, shaking his head in disapproval.

"No?" she enquired, brightly, opening the second box of beers and loading them into the fridge to, "And where should I be?"

"Where me an' Angel can keep an eye on ya 'til we sort out those guys who jumped ya last night," he reasoned. Why was she so intent on making this diffcult for them?

"You know, there's really no need for you to get involved," she said a little distractedly, more interested in her work than what he was saying.

"Bit late for that," he said, "An' I've got the bruises to prove it."

She looked up at him surptitiously as he grimaced a bit while stretching his aching body. That made her feel a little bad. Poor thing had got pretty battered last night in protecting her. God knows where she'd be by now if they hadn't have 'interfered'. In a cargo hold, half way back to England, no doubt. It made her feel a little sick just to think about it.

And why shouldn't she accept their help? What was she trying to prove by acting like this anyway? That she could deal with this herself? Well, that was a big lie for a start. Running away and hiding didn't really count as handling something in her book. Hell, they hadn't even asked her to pay them.

"Okay," she said, gently, standing up to look at him, "Let me just finish up here – I really do have to fix his sound system - and then I'll come back with you, deal?"

Doyle smiled. It was more than he could have reasonable hoped for. He didn't know what he had said, but somehow it had gotten through. "Fine by me," he said with a nod.

"And while you're waiting, I'll even let you have one on the house," she said, flattening the now empty boxes.

Doyle's smile broadened to a grin, "You are a godess, anyone eva tell ya that?"

"Not when they were sober, no," she said, dazzling him with a slightly embarrased smile, "What are drinking?"

Doyle hesitated a moment. God, when she wasn't being a pain in the ass, she really was pretty. Not Cordelia supermodel-male-fantasy pretty but classic-nice girl-pretty.

"Er....I'll have a pint of the black stuff if ya don't mind," he said, shaking himself out of his sudden moment of realisation.

Anna quickly poured him a pint of Guiness with practiced hands and handed it over. Fetching the tool kit that she kept behind the bar for occassions such as this, she beckoned for Doyle to follow her.

"Sure ya boss won't mind ya leavin'?" he asked, careful not to spill his drink as he walked.

She shook her head, "He'll understand. By God, he's anagogic, he's meant to understand. He'll get someone to cover....Jamie could always do with the work."

"That kid works here too?"

She nodded, stiffening slightly. The sudden mention of the boy's name brought back the fresh memory of his betrayal last night. She thought he was her friend. Would have said so to anyone. But it had been left to two strangers to help her out when she needed it most. She wasn't going to forgive him in a hurry.

"I spoke to him by the by," Doyle said, seemingly oblivious to her sudden change of mood, "Kid's a bit worried about ya. Said ya give him a call."

"Sure," she said, dismissively, "Why don't you take a table while I work? I won't be long."

****

PART THIRTEEN

"Ya pretty handy with a screw driver," Doyle commented, as they stepped into the building that housed Angel Investigations amongst other things. They had left Caritas half and hour after he had arrived. The sound system had been fixed, the Host blissfully trying it out with a redition of Aretha Franklin's 'Think'. Delighted with her work, he had agreed to let her go with a warning to look out for herself and for Doyle to keep an eye on her.

Anna nodded, pleased at what Doyle had said, "I'm a bit of a techie on the side. The bar work's just to let me live."

"Don't s'pose your any good wit' tvs?" Doyle asked, with a small smile, "'Cos mine's on just about it's last legs an' I can't really afford a new one."

She looked at him a little questioningly.

"Well, fightin' the forces o' darkness don't pay as well as I'd like," he admitted.

Anna was about to reply when they turned the corner to the entrance to Angel Investigations and found that they now had a new, more open foyee – severely lacking the door.

A pained groan from inside the room snapped them both into action from their frozen shock.

Doyle moved just moments before Anna, reaching Cordelia first. With the English woman's help, he managed to lift the door off of her easily.

Cordelia immediately sat up, Doyle immediately beginning fussing.

"No," he insisted, "Ya shouldn't move, Princess. Ya mighta broke somethin'."

Cordy shook her head, although she instantly regretted it, "I'm okay. Just my head hurts."

She did have a bleeding cut on her temple and she'd probably be bruised to hell, but apart from that she appeared to have been remarkably lucky.

"What happened?" Anna asked, concerned as she picked a wad of tissues off of the desk and held it to the other woman's forehead.

Cordelia frowned at her, wondering if she should know who this woman was. Maybe her head injury was worse than she thought.

"I'm Anna," the English woman explained, immediately erasing her fears.

"Hi. Cordy," she said softly, feeling a little sick, "I don't usually look like this."

"Oh, believe me," Anna said brightly, "For someone who's just been trapped under a hard wood door, you look remarkably good."

That, predictably, brought a smile to Cordy's lips. "Thanks", she said, her nausea momentarily forgotten.

Doyle rolled his eyes. Anna had just complimented her on her appearance? She'd just made a friend for life.

"Er...I hate to break up this bondin' thing you girls have got goin' on," he cut in, his voice shaking just a little, "But can we get back to the matter at hand, like – what the bleedin' hell happened?"

Cordy shook her head, not really sure what the answer the that question was, "Something came in. Something big."

"Did ya see what it looked like?"

Cordy glared at him fiercely, "No, Doyle, I had a door on my head."

Well, he decided, she couldn't be that hurt. She was the same ole Cordy.

"Where'd it go?"

"Downstairs I think," Cordelia said, offhandedly before a sudden thought hit her and her nausea returned, "Oh God! Angel!"

Doyle visibly paled a little. "I'll go check it out. You girls stay 'ere."

Anna frowned as she helped Cordy to her feet, "Will you be all right on your own?"

"Ah, yeah sure," Doyle said, with a certain amount of nervousness, "Although if someone screaming like a girl ya might wanna come down an' giv' me a hand."

Doyle hurriedly headed towards the stairs before he changed his mind. On his way down, he picked one of the daggers off of the wall and held it out in front of him as if it could ward off anything. Although if this was what he thought it was, then that itty-bitty little dagger wasn't going to be much help.

Sneaking a quick look into the apartment the place looked horrible ominous. He didn't like the look of it. All quiet and safe looking. It was bound to mean that something was just waiting to jump out at him.

Standing in the stairwell, trying to decide the best course of action, a rational thought eventually crossed Doyle's mind. He had a pretty good idea that what had got in here was one of the Lant'al that had survived the building collapse last night. The 'destroy things first, destroy things later and never bother to talk' approach was certainly their M.O. This left him to conclude two things. Firstly, if it was down there he probably would have heard it before now. They weren't exactly known for their subtlety. Secondly, if by some bizarre chance it was waiting to jump him, the size of those things, he'd be dead before he knew about it anyway. Not the most comforting thought, but at least he knew it'd be quick.

Taking a deep breath, praying it wasn't to be his last, he strode quickly into the middle of the apartment and waited for something terrible to happen.

Which it didn't. That was almost as bad itself. It meant that even Angel wasn't here.

Checking around quickly, Doyle couldn't spot any tell-tale piles of dust so no need to get hysterical just yet.

Or maybe there was.

The trapdoor that gave access to the sewer tunnels was open. In fact it was twice the size it once was, having been widened by a large bulk going through it. And on the floor, leading up to it, was a trail of blood.

****

PART FOURTEEN

Angel wished for unconciousness to bless him again as soon became aware of his surroundings. He felt like every bone in his body had been crushed into powder – which it just might have been the way the Lant'al had laid into him. Angel hadn't even had a chance to fight back. By the time he had fallen unconcious he couldn't have moved if he tried.

Now the Lant'al had him bound up, with rope tied securely around his hands and feet. Made a change from shackles he supposed. He had been tossed uncerimoniously into the corner of the wide opening in the sewer tunnels. In the middle, the Lant'al was setting up something which he guessed to be the ritual to raise Any. He had the stone after all and that had been their plan from the get go.

Angel guessed it would be a good idea if he tried to stop this before one of hell's favourite sons was unleashed on L.A. Of course, that meant escaping first....

--

"Okay, so a demon the size of a mountain has kidnapped Angel and taken a stone that will raise a demon from hell," Cordelia said from her desk as she watched Doyle fuss about the office, "And you're gonna go down and there and try to rescue him."

"That's about the jist of it," Doyle said, finally finding what he wanted in one of the cupboards. A large, sharp sword. Just perfect for piercing a slit in demon body armour. At least, that's what he was hoping. "Ya have a problem with that?" he asked, crossing to the door that would take him back down stairs.

"Actually, yeah," Cordelia followed him, sounding a little angry, "Since you're gonna get yourself your killed."

Doyle half smiled at this, "Ah, darlin'. I didn't know ya cared."

Cordelia crossed her arms across her chest, scowling, "I don't. But those visions of yours do bring in business. I'd hate to have to do without them."

Doyle almost laughed, before turning to head downstairs.

Cordelia grabbed him by the arm, "You cannot go down there alone."

"If I don't," he said, all seriousness for one of the very few times in his life, "Angel's gonna die. And so will a lot of other people if that demon gets raised."

"It's not going to happen," Anna said, coming up the stairs to intercept him, "We can make sure of that."

"We?" Doyle said immediately shaking his head firmly, "Oh no. No. No way are you coming with me."

Anna placed her hands squarely on her hips, a determined scowl setting itself on her face, "And why, may I ask, not?"

"Because you attract trouble," he explained swiftly, "I've seen it. Been on the wrong end of it."

"Well," she reasoned, "You'll never be able to find trouble if I don't go with you."

"What?"

"This," she said, holding up a technical looking gizmo in her hand, "Can trace the distinct signature given off by the stone, allowing me to track it. And I'm only one who knows how to use it."

Doyle let out a deep resigned sigh. It seemed he had no choice.

Anna smiled, satisfied. Cordy merely rolled her eyes in disgust.

"Just for the record – you're both crazy"

  
**PART FIFTEEN**

Doyle might have not liked the idea to start with, but Anna coming along had definitely turned out to be a bonus. He had didn't realised how vast the sewer system actually was, never having been inclined to explore the place. He would have thought that a large demon would leave some sort of track for him to follow – a trail of destruction of some sort – but if it had been left up to him, he would have been turned about in here for hours.

Anna, as it turned out, was kind of off-the-chart smart. For some reason, he hadn't expected it from her. Maybe because she worked in a bar. He considered barmaids to be pretty much bimbos, but here was the exception. As she'd rattled on about getting all sorts of signals and interpreting them in techno babble, he had nodded, pretending he vaguely understood what she was talking about.

The tunnel exit they were hiding in was about eight feet up the far wall of the chamber it opened up onto. They could see the demon in the centre, preparing meticulously for it's ritual. To one side, Angel was bound and lying on the floor. Since he wasn't a pile of dust, they figured that he had to be alive. Although in what condition, they weren't sure.

"So?" Anna whispered, after they'd taken a few moments to take it all in.

"So?" Doyle repeated straight back at her.

She shrugged, "What'd we do?"

Doyle recoiled slightly as she looked at him trustingly. Obivously she was expecting him to take the lead here. Which wasn't a good thing since Doyle didn't have a clue. He was more a follower than a leader. The trusty side-kick with the witty repartee. The Tonto to Angel's Lone Ranger. The Robin to Angel's Batman – but without the tights.

"Er....", he said, trying to make it look like he really did know what he was doing. "Well, we've gotta get Angel outta there, ain't we?" he offered, making it a question rather and an order.

Anna frowned, "How? We'd need some sort of diversion." She shook her head, daring to go closer to the entrance, craning to get a better look. "There's no cover between here and Angel at all. As soon as we got down there we'd be-"

She was cut off as the piece of old concrete her hand was leaning on suddenly crumbled away and she tumbled forward, head first into the chamber below.

"Anna!" Doyle cried out in a fierce whisper, not wanting to attract the attention of the Lant'al if by some blessing he hadn't heard her fall.

Whoever handed out those blessings certainly wasn't paying them any attention today though, as the demon looked up straight at her as she picked herself painful off of the floor.

"Doyle...", she said, just loud enough for him to hear, "Get Angel."

"What the bleedin' hell you gonna do?!" he exclaimed worriedly.

"Well, 'run' would probably be an idea."

The demon began to advance lumbering towards her and Anna made a quick dash for it. Skipping past the demon as it lunged at her, she thanked God that while these things were indeed huge and dangerous, they were also cumbersome and slow. By the time the demon had managed to turn its bulk back round to see her, she was already picking the stone up and waving it invitingly in front of her. The demon seemed to have something resembling angry recognition on its flat featured face. It had seen this situation before and remembered what had happened then. All his brothers had died.

"Oh dear," Anna muttered under her breath, as the demon came crashing towards her. Perhaps really pissing it off hadn't been the most intelligent idea she'd ever had. She'd better run.

And she did, sprinting out of the chamber, the demon charging after her with a roar, as fast as its bulk would carry it.

Doyle's body seemed to leap into action well before his brain did. He had reached Angel and was in the process of freeing the vampire by the time he knew what was happening.

"Glad you could make it," Angel said, as Doyle worked swiftly.

"Ah," Doyle said, "I'm sure ya could've figured this out by yaself in the end. Just wanted to make things easy on ya, that's all."

Angel snorted a laugh, "This is 'easy'?" He sat up, rubbing absently at his sore wrists, "You know, that was a really stupid thing she just did – now I suppose she expects me to go and rescue her."

"Sure ya up to it?" Doyle asked. Angel looked battered, but the vampire did heal very quickly.

He nodded, "Yeah. You should probably get out of here." He tried to stand up, but on the way swayed uneasily on his feet and Doyle grabbed to steady him.

"On second thoughts," Angel conceded, after the nausea had passed, "Maybe you better come along. Just in case."

****

PART SIXTEEN

Anna skidded round the corner, almost losing her footing in a bid to try to get round the corner as quickly as possible. Boy, that demon really could move when he was angry. As it bore down on her, crashing through the tunnels, Anna realised that getting away from it might have been harder than she thought. She hadn't really banked on her impromptue diversion becoming a suicide mission, so she guessed she should thinking of a way out of this.

Scanning the tunnels was pretty hard work as she flew along, trying to look for an escape route as well as keeping an eye on her footing. If she fell, she she'd be dead pretty much instantly.

Through some massive stroke of luck, she noticed the ladder leading up to the small alcove ahead of her. As she jumped for it she briefly wondered if this was such a good idea. The alcove was certainly small enough to not allow the demon in, but also once she was in there, she'd be trapped until either the demon just gave up – which was pretty unlikely – or someone came to rescue her. Anna almost sighed in annoyance as she quickly shined up the ladder. She didn't like having to do 'damsel in distress'. It was degrading. But she valued her life more than her pride and she knew she couldn't keep running like this. 

She scrambled into the alcove as the demon reached for her, taking a swipe at her ankles and missing by inches. It roared in frustration and slammed its large fists into the wall. The whole place seemed to tremor as though it had been hit by an earthquake and Anna covered her head with her hands as chunks of plaster rained down on her.

It seemed, however, that this one wasn't about to simply trying to bash the place into oblivion. Realising with a few testy swipes, that it couldn't get at her, it began scraping away at the entrance to the alcove. To her horror, the concrete was simply pulled away. And the more it pulled off, the more of it's bulk it could fit in the tunnel and closer it got to dragging her out a ripping her to shreds or, alternatively, flattening her like a pancake. Personally, she didn't really have a preferance.

Backing herself up as far against the rear wall as she could, the lack of inches between herself and a snarling angry demon was quite frankly terrifying. She didn't really have time to form a suitable plan in her screaming mind before the demon's hand was tugging instantly at her feet. Instinctively she grabbed at the pipes running up the back of the alcove just as the demon got a grip round her ankle and began to tug at it.

Part of her just wanted to let go. It felt like either her ankles or her arms were simply going to tear off. But if she let go......The thought alone made her grip even tighter and grimace through the pain, determind to hold on as long as possible. She wasn't a quiter by nature.

Through her fuze, pain-hazed mind a sudden clear thought suddenly emerged.

__

'Well, it had to happen sooner or later, Anna,' it muttered sensibly, _'Did you reall think you could carry on playing with death for this long and for death not to get the upperhand? What did you think? That you were invincible?'_

No. That had never been the case. She had always known the risks inherent in the way she chose to live her life. Which begged the question – why did she do it? What on earth was in it for her if she died?

Well, it looked like she was about to find out.

She managed to hold on for a few more grim seconds before she felt tremendous pull and her grip was tugged viciously away. She flew backwards out of the hole, but instead on landing right into the demon's death grasp as she expected, she hit the floor.

Looking up, she came face to face with Angel and Doyle who were looking straight back down at her, questioningly.

She glanced to the side to see the demon lying on the floor, the sword Doyle had brought sticking out of its throat.

Angel smiled slightly at her expression of shock and relief, "What? Were you expecting someone else?"

She scowled back at him.

"Wanna hand?" Doyle asked with a small smile. The smile was mainly born from the fact that he was glad she all right, although a little bit of it was from her dishevelled and filthy appearance.

Anna seemed to immediately interpret it as the latter however and her scowl deepened. "No thank you," she said curtly as she sat up, "I am quite capable of taking care of myself."

"Yeah," Angel said, still smiling, "You had that really under control."

She got wobbly to her feet and tried a tentative step, but her punished ankles immediately gave way. Fortunately she was saved another trip to the floor by Angel's vampire reflexes steadying her.

"Thank you," she said, with just a small amount of reluctance.

"For stopping you falling or saving your life?" he enquired as the three of them began to wearily trudge back to the office.

She shrugged, "Both, I guess."

"You guess?"

She sighed and put on her sweetest smile, "Thank you, Angel, for saving my life."

"Now, was that so hard?"

"It was horrible."

****

PART SEVENTEEN

"So," Cordelia said, going over to Anna with the medical kit now that she had finished with Angel. He was still quite battered, but the wounds had already started to heal. Anna had cuts and bruises, nothing more. "The demon didn't rise."

"No," Angel said, the relief in his voice evident.

"Which is pretty good for you," Cordy added with a nod.

Doyle laughed slightly, "Yeah, cos it looked like that Lant'al had ya in mind as a demon chew toy."

"No," Cordy said promptly, "Because you still owe me from the last lot of overtime I did. You couldn't have afforded my services this time."

Angel smiled gently, knowing that she didn't really mean it. Okay, so she may complain about the work and the pay, but in a clinch Cordy would be there for him, without him ever having to ask.

"It was lucky you guys found us when you did," Angel admitted, "He was close to getting that ritual underway, and they're pretty hard to stop once started."

Doyle nodded towards Anna, "Thank the techie over there for that. She had this little gizmo that helped us find ya. We'd still be lookin' if not."

Angel looked thoughtful but declined to say anything.

"How's that feel?" Cordy asked Anna as she stuck a few plasters over the cuts on her hands.

Anna streched her fingers out experimentally. Well, typing was going to be a little painful for a few days, but she'd live. Which is more than she could have hoped for twenty minutes ago.

"Good," she said, hopping down off the desk, "Thanks, but I've got to go. I'm due at work this evening and I really need a clean change of clothes." She smiled briefly at them all, "See you around."

Doyle took note of that. '_See you around'_. Maybe this wasn't going to be their only....adventure with her after all. And he to his surprise he found the prospect of seeing more of her pretty attractive.

Anna had almost gotten to the front entrance of the building when Angel called her back. She turned to watch the vampire coming towards her, limping very slightly.

"You saved a lot of lives today, Anna," he admitted when he got close, as usual not mincing his words, "If that demon had gotten loose.....It was good work. Stupid, but good."

For once, she just smiled at his scolding, "I'm glad I could help."

There was more silence and she took this as the cue that the conversation was over. Turning to leave, his words again called her back.

"Do want a job?"

"Excuse me?" she asked, with genuine surprise.

"Do you want a job?" Angel repeated again.

"Here?" she asked, stepping a little closer, "With you guys?"

Angel shrugged, "The Powers That Be could do with someone with your skills. I know I could. Proved that today."

"But I bug you," she reasoned.

Angel smiled, shaking her head, "You don't 'bug me', Anna. Yeah, you worry me. You're reckless, have a total disreguard for your own safety and don't think of the consequences of your actions......You're going to be a lot of hard work. But I still want you on my team."

Her smile was large and warm, with an open-heartedness that Angel had rarely seen.

"Besides," he said, "Things with the Watcher's Council might not be over. You need somebody to watch your back."

Anna thought of Jamie for a moment. He should have been the one watching her back. He was her friend. At least, he had been. In light of recent event s he'd been relegated to 'acquiantance'. Here, she had a group of people – well, one semi-person and two people – who were offering her not only a fanatistic job which would allow her to put her skills to practical use, but friendship and protection. There was no reason not to accept...

"I'd love and come work with you," she said with gentle pleasure, "As long as it would be all right with the others."

"It will," he promised.

There was a small silent moment while they just looked at one another. This was going to be the start of a sometimes trying – but definitely welcome – friendship.

"Well," she said with a decisive nod, "I'll see you later.....boss."

This time she actually reached the door before he called her back for a third time.

"Oh, and Anna?"

"Yes?"

"Give the stone back."

Pouting, she pulled it out of the pocket she had concealed it in and slapped it into his open hand.

Angel grinned as he watched her go. Maybe she was going to be trouble. But there was just something about her. Something that told him that he should keep her around. The Powers That Be had sent her to him for a reason.

Walking back to the office, tossing the stone up and down in his hand, he felt a warmth inside that he had never really experienced. Almost a sense of belonging. A sense of family. Him, Doyle, Cordelia and now Anna. None of which had much to look forward to outside their own circle, but together.....Well, together they were part of something pretty damn unique.

****

EPILOGUE

Gibson, his arm in a sling still for his scuffle with the vampire, watched from the car as Anna Madison left the Angel Investigations office and headed off down the street.

He turned to address the figure that he knew was sitting behind the darkened screen behind him.

"There she is, sir," he said, stating the obvious, "What do you want me to do?"

"Leave her," said the man in his habitual cold, hard British accent.

"Leave 'er?" Gibson asked in surprise and anger, "But she's on 'er own. We could just grab 'er now an' no one would know."

"There's no need to cause that trouble," the voice said, calm, but full of gentle menance, "We know where she is. That's all that is important for now."

On the other side of the street, someone also watched Anna as she left.

Jamie stuck his hands in his pockets as he began to walk off the other way, momentarily considering going after her before dismissing the idea.

She hadn't called him. And that Irish guy had promised he'd give her the message. So, it looked like she just didn't want to. And he couldn't really blame her. He'd abandoned her last night. Abandoned her like a coward when he could have stuck up for her like the friend he was supposed to be.

He shook his head, angry and disappointed with himself. She was the only one who had ever shown him any real kindness. Hell, the first night they'd met, she'd saved his life when he was attacked by a vampire. It was a favour he had had the opportunity to repay last night and he'd failed miserably. Failed his only true friend.

Walking now, through the streets of the City of Angels, Jamie felt more than sad. More than alone.

He felt lost.

Walking the other way, an unmistakable skip in her step, Anna felt something she had never thought she would experience again. A sense of true belonging. Of being a part of something. Of having been found.

****

THE END

   [1]: http://members.tripod.co.uk/doylefan22



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